


with colors sundry

by inkwelled



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Body Paint, Breakfast in Bed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deaf Character, F/M, Freckles, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Mild Sexual Content, Morning Kisses, Painting, Sharing a Room, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, soft makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-27 00:37:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18293324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkwelled/pseuds/inkwelled
Summary: Turn over,Amaya signs before she climbs off him. Gren can't help but press a kiss to her shoulder in passing and he catches the smile on her face.He settles into the sheets, sighing. Pillowing his cheek in the clasp of his hands, Gren waits. He can hear Amaya padding around their bedroom floor, bare feet slapping against the hardwood floors, the open and close of the box of paints she keeps in the corner.Ah.





	with colors sundry

**Author's Note:**

> i am so inexplicably happy for tomorrow because i get to update whetted knife! quick shoutout to everyone who's read and reviewed - every time i get an email for a comment, my heart soars. you guys really make my day and i'm so excited to see y'all's reaction to the newest chapter. until then, though, enjoy this!
> 
> me, writing this: how did gremaya SMUT turn into gremaya FLUFF [ heavy sigh ]
> 
> no but really this started out as pwp and instead turned into gratuitous amounts of early morning fluff. i give up. these two are just too cute and my fragile heart can't take it. here's to the release of the s3 poster and the knowledge that it will "crush" us. cheers! [ sobbing ]
> 
> title ; [o painter](https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2265933/o-painter/) by cné

Gren wakes as he always does, warm. The first thing he makes out through lidded, sleepy eyes is the pillow beneath his head, the thin comforter pulled to his waist and the arm that secures it in its place.

Amaya.

He smiles. _Good morning._

Against his back, Gren can feel the vibrations of Amaya’s laughter. _Good morning,_  she replies, lips pressed into the back of his neck. _Sleep well?_

Gren nods.  _You?_

The arm around his waist comes to sign her response. _Well. I am glad it’s Saturday._

 _So we can stay in bed?_  Gren signs, chuckling. Behind him, pressed to his back, Amaya shifts ever-closer.

 _No,_ Amaya signs. _So I can do this._

Gren melts into solid warmth of Amaya’s arm as she presses open-mouthed kisses to the back of his neck. The short hairs at his nape tickle as she explores with her lips, feeling how Gren’s body shifts when he sighs contently under her ministrations.

 _Keep doing that and I’ll stay in bed as long as you want,_  Gren signs languidly, eyes lolling closed. The early morning sun is visible through his eyelids, though, and he buries his face in his pillow blissfully.

They snap open and he yelps suddenly when Amaya's cold feet press into the back of his shins, worming their way between his ankles. As she laughs loudly, he twists away with a shout, squirming.

“What was that for?!” he cries, laughter bubbling up his throat as he turns onto his back to meet Amaya's amused look. “Amaya-!“

His words die in his throat as Amaya’s hand on his hip, previously forgotten, dips beneath the sheet.

Gren’s words melt into a soft moan as Amaya’s deft fingers roam the planes of his lower stomach. His right shoulder is pressed into the skin beneath her breasts, tanktop hiked up overnight. Propped up on one shoulder, Amaya’s grin is kin to a cat who caught the canary. This time when her foot makes his way between his ankles, he doesn’t squirm away.

The toes of her right foot ghost up and down his shin twice before wandering between, slowly inching his legs apart.

Her fingers don’t stop the maddeningly-slow circles and paths she’s tracing into his skin, how she follows the slight v of his hips down until her fingertips bump against the elastic of his boxers.

Suddenly, Gren is both thankful and dreading the fact its summer and he's only in boxers. despite the flush on his cheeks, he can feel the blood rushing lower.

Amaya lowers herself slowly from her elbow, coming to settle until she’s even with his shoulder. While the hand on his hip doesn’t move, she tangles the fingers from her other hand in the hairs at the nape of his neck.

He tilts his head back, indulgent moans slipping from between his lips. Amaya’s smile is palpable when she lowers her head to press a single kiss to his bicep.

Gren bites his lip, hips starting to move of their own accord as they’re stirred on by Amaya’s continuous ministrations. Already he can feel himself hardening in his boxers, body coming alive with Amaya’s touch slower than his mind but just as impatient.

His hips jump when Amaya’s lips move up his arm, laying kisses on his pale skin with purpose but yet lazily. He sucks in a breath when her tongue darts out to trace a cluster of freckles on his shoulder.

“If I didn’t know better,” Gren gasps, “I would say that’s your favorite part of me.”

 _No,_  Amaya mouths, eyes softening as her hand comes from the nape of his neck to cup his cheek, _this is._

She leans in and kisses him so tenderly that Gren’s body relaxes into the mattress. Just like the rest of her - save for her feet - she's warm and curved and edged like a sword and Gren loves her.

Amaya’s tongue traces over the seam of his mouth and he lets her in.

He's never been able to say no to her. He gives himself up willingly.

Amaya tastes like toothpaste and sunshine. Gren tilts his head to let her in further, left hand coming up to cradle her cheek like she is his. His thumb passes over the small scar under her right eye and she pulls back just enough that their eyes meet.

 _Beautiful,_  Gren mouths reverently and Amaya’s smile could rival the sun shining into their bedroom. It’s him that captures her lips this time - him that lets his hand wander from her cheek and instead cup the back of her head, fingers tangling in her dark, shorn hair.

A moan rumbles from Amaya’s body and Gren chuckles into the kiss. Amaya’s tongue sweeps across his once before she’s pressing kisses to the rest of his face; the bridge of his nose, his cheeks, the space between his eyes, his forehead.

He scrunches his nose when she kisses the tip of it, knowing she’s aiming for the singular freckle that sits there.

Amaya is nothing if not predictable.

Leaning back slightly, Amaya smiles before peppering his cheeks with kisses. But this time they’re different - lingering, softer.

He doesn’t realize where she’s headed until she presses a kiss to his jawline and he groans. Amaya lathes her tongue over his throat, kisses turning into little nips and swipes of her tongue and Gren breathes out harshly, hips jumping.

Her hand on his stomach keeps him pinned.

It’s hot but so, so slow. Amaya takes her time, making sure to kiss every inch of his neck before nosing into the crook of his jawline and breathe hotly onto the sensitive skin. But instead of going further, instead of Amaya's hand wandering further down his stomach, slipping underneath the elastic of his boxers and leading him into release, she slows.

Her kisses work their way back up his neck, over his cheeks.

It's a long, drawn-out fall but Amaya's fingers wander up his chest and her palm splays out right above his heart. He knows it's beating wild and fast beneath her skin and swoops to catch her lips once again.

Sometime during all this, she's rolled on top of him.

He doesn't mind.

Their kisses slow until it's just them, giggling and gasping for breath. Despite the press of Amaya's hips against his own, he can feel himself softening.

He's not strung-out, though. He knows Amaya has a plan.

She kisses him one last time before pulling back, perching herself on his waist. Her powerful thighs are straddling his stomach and he sets his hands on them reverently, thumbs pressing circles into it.

 _Turn over,_  Amaya signs before she climbs off him. Gren can't help but press a kiss to her shoulder in passing and he catches the smile on her face.

He settles into the sheets, sighing. Pillowing his cheek in the clasp of his hands, Gren waits. He can hear Amaya padding around their bedroom floor, bare feet slapping against the hardwood floors, the open and close of the box of paints she keeps in the corner.

Ah.

The mattress dips with the weight of her knees when Amaya returns. Her weight settles on his lower back, tailbone pressed into his.

There's shifting and Amaya's hand is near his face. _Is this okay?_

 _Yes,_  he signs back and closes his eyes.

He can hear the birds chirping outside, the sound of the city coming alive in the lazy, early-summer morning. Their curtains flutter with the breeze, letting in all the smells of a small apartment in a big city.

The first touch of paint against his back makes Gren shiver.

Amaya's touch is light, slippery with paint. Though the first few times make him jump slightly, he soon revels in the feeling of Amaya's fingertips tracing in circles he can't see, painting things directly onto his skin.

He loves when he gets to slip a hand up Amaya's shirt and hear her breathy moans but this, this level of closeness, is Gren's favorite kind of intimacy.

It's just Amaya and Gren in this moment, nothing between them, including words. They're both in their element.

Only accompanied by the sound of tree leaves rustling drifting faintly through the window and Amaya's little subconscious sighs as she works, Gren floats somewhere between sleep and wake. The paint soon starts to warm in Amaya's fingers and he finds himself relaxing into her touch. The coarseness of a paintbrush swirls against his skin and he sighs, utterly content. He knows Amaya can't hear his tiny murmurs of encouragement but he whispers them anyways. He's so proud of her.

In the corner, a canvas with a field of sunflowers is propped up on an easel. Gren doesn't know that, though, the screen pulled around it. It's the closest semblance they have to privacy for Amaya to work in their tiny apartment - there are three rooms and one of them is their bedroom.

The other is a bathroom, the shower just big enough for the two of them. They know from experience.

In the kitchen, the kettle starts to whistle lowly and without opening his eyes, Gren signs _tea_  and feels the weight shift of Amaya as she gets up.

She taps his nose and he cracks open his eyes.

_Chamomile?_

He nods and she pins him with a stern look that's utterly undone by the soft smile on her face. _Don't move or you're washing the sheets and sleeping on the couch tonight._

 _Yes ma'am,_  Gren signs dutifully as he lets his eyes flutter closed. _No moving._

Amaya's breath ruffles his bangs when she presses a quick kiss to his forehead. He listens to her pad into the other room, the creak of the floorboards beneath her feet as she pours the boiling water into two cups and opens various cupboards. He drifts back into semi-consciousness with a dopey smile plastered across his face. Gren can hear his girlfriend measuring out the tea leaves into mugs, the clanking of the spoon against the sides of the ceramic pieces.

Amaya returns and sets the mug on the nightstand next to his face. Gren breathes in deeply when she does, inhaling the chamomile and Amaya's smell - clean sheets and paint, shampoo and the lavender body wash she uses.

It's his favorite smell.

She settles back on his thighs, dips her fingers back into the paint. Gren loses himself in the movements of her fingertips and paintbrushes; he relishes in the feel of them sweeping across his back and the tippy-top of his shoulders.

His hips dip into the mattress when she leans forward, brushing her lips over the cluster of freckles on his shoulder.

 _Done,_  she mouths into his skin. Gren's smile is blissful.

_Can I see?_

Amaya's weight lifting off his thighs answers his questions. Hand on his arm, she guides him out of bed so that he doesn't get the paint on the sheets.

Palm laid over his eyes, he can hear her shuffling a few things before she removes her hand.

Gren opens his eyes.

There's a field of sunflowers on his back. Gren traces the stems of the flowers with his eyes, watching in the mirror as his fingers ghost over the lines.

Amaya slaps his hand away and he chuckles. _No touching,_  she scolds.

Gren marvels. It's a field of nothing but sunflowers, clusters and rows as far as he can see. Despite being painted on the planes of his back, he can almost swears he hears the rustle of the wind in the petals, the smell of dirt.

_Do you like it?_

Gren meets Amaya's eyes in the mirror. _I love it,_  he signs and turns to wrap her in his arms. Her body shakes with a giggle as he sweeps her close, bending his head to kiss her paint-stained fingertips.

 _I love you,_ he mouths. Amaya's eyes soften as she rises on her tippy-toes to kiss him.

He's glad it's Saturday, too, and they get the paint all over the sheets. With a smile and a shake of his head, afterward, Gren strips the bed and Amaya sticks out her tongue when she slaps his bare backside on the way out of their bedroom. 

**Author's Note:**

> don't forget to leave kudos, review, and read whetted knife! also, come yell with me on my twitter (@ cinnamnym) about the tpo twitter account and the confirmation of s3 and the WICKED poster hhhh im so READY for s3 to emotionally WRECK ME


End file.
